All Chapters of Fallon’s Reid: An Arranged Contract: Chapter 181 - Chapter 190

~Fallon~I wish I could say I didn’t see it coming.But when you grow up in a family like mine — with names that belong to buildings, with smiles that cost more than most people’s mortgages — you learn early what happens when control is lost.People strike first.And they always aim to humiliate.The first thing I noticed was the silence.Not the peaceful kind. The unnatural kind.The kind that comes just before the world opens its mouth and devours you.I stood in the foyer, the mansion suddenly too big, too quiet. My phone buzzed against my palm. Another message. Another notification. Another bomb.By the time I stepped into the drawing room, I already knew.It wasn’t just a leak.It was a campaign.I opened the first article.And then another.Each one worse than the last.Photos of me and Reid at our wedding, overlaid with headlines like:“It Was Never Real: Inside the Callahan-Prescott Deception”“Billion Dollar Lie: Fallon Prescott Played the Long Game”“Callahan’s Bride or Busi

~Reid~She didn’t slam the door when she left.She didn’t throw things. Didn’t scream. Didn’t make me the villain — not out loud, anyway.She just looked at me like she didn’t recognize the man standing in front of her anymore.And then she walked away.Three bags. No ring. No second glance.And I let her.Because I didn’t know how to stop her without admitting the one thing I still couldn’t say:Don’t go. I need you. I’m nothing without you.⸻After the car disappeared down the drive, I stood there in the foyer for a long time.I think part of me expected her to come back.To change her mind.To storm back inside and yell at me for letting her go so easily.But the silence was absolute.Even the staff had disappeared — giving me space, or maybe just afraid to witness the fallout.Good.They didn’t need to see me like this.Nobody did.I ended up in the study. Door closed. Lights off.I sat in the chair where I’d signed the contract with her name beside mine — a document meant to be c

~Fallon~I turned my phone off two days ago.No silent mode. No notifications buried under banners. Just… off.Because every time I looked, there was another headline.Another photoshopped image of me smiling at some event next to Reid, cropped just right to imply betrayal.Another article that used the words “alleged” and “source close to the couple” to strip me down in public.They were rewriting me in real time.Recasting me as the girl who faked her marriage, leveraged her name, fooled the billionaire.They said I left because the deal ran dry.They said I left because I’d been playing a long con.They said I’d never loved him.And the part that gutted me wasn’t just that they were wrong.It was that Reid hadn’t said anything to prove them otherwise.____I’d kept the curtains drawn in every room.Not because I was hiding — not really.But because the world outside didn’t feel like mine anymore. The sunlight felt fake. Too clean. Too staged.There was something about this house —

~Fallon~The lights were too bright.Not in the usual, flattering sense — not the kind you lose yourself in during shoots or interviews. These were surgical. Harsh. Unforgiving in their honesty. The kind of lights that dared you to flinch.I didn’t.I sat still, spine straight, hands folded neatly in my lap. A producer murmured something to the host. A makeup artist dabbed beneath my eyes — not because I needed it, but because she was nervous, and fidgeting helped.“Rolling in five,” someone called out.I didn’t blink. Didn’t move. Just kept my gaze locked on the middle distance.I had done photoshoots in Paris, red carpet interviews in gowns worth more than some mortgages. I had held my own against executives, sponsors, the ever-smiling shark tank that was my family.But nothing — nothing — felt as vulnerable as this chair. This moment.“Fallon,” the host said gently as the cameras turned on. “Thank you for being here. I know this hasn’t been easy.”I gave her the smile I’d perfected

~Fallon~The moment the interview ended, I closed the laptop and sat there in the quiet.No clapping. No dramatic music. No sigh of relief.Just silence.My palms were still slightly damp from how tightly I’d wrung my hands beneath the desk during the live taping. The studio had dimmed the lights right after, the makeup artist already whisking away to her next job, the host off-camera, saying, “Thank you for being so brave, Fallon,” like she’d just watched a woman walk out of a war zone instead of her own marriage.It kind of felt like that, though.War.Except the enemy wore tailored suits and never raised his voice.The ldrive home was a blur. The driver didn’t speak, which I appreciated. I kept the window cracked, letting the late spring wind cut against my cheeks like it could keep me tethered to reality. My phone vibrated nonstop in my bag, but I didn’t check it. I didn’t need to.I already knew.I collapsed on the couch as the buzz started. Everything felt louder than it shoul